Sunlight
by It's Jess
Summary: The summer before Harry's sixth year was a hard one. Isolating himself from everyone else was supposed to help but as it turned out, one conversation with Ginny Weasley, of all people, helped him more than that ever did.


I always thought that Harry liking Ginny would not have happened over night, a series of events where he noticed small things about her that made her her own person and not just his best friends little sister MUST have happened before he saw her kissing Dean and realised he liked her. I dunno, maybe I'm wrong. But generally speaking when you like someone it happens slowly over time, not overnight due to jealously. So I kind of threw the odd little things in here to address that...

Let me know what you think :)

**Sunlight**

The summer before Harry's sixth year was a hard one.

Sirius was gone, and the whole world felt empty as a result of it. Even at the Burrow, where he was surrounded by people who loved and cared for him, he felt withdrawn and backwards when it came to life. He could barely bring himself to talk to his best friend. All the talk of weddings and dresses did not help. It only reminded him of his mortality.

How was he supposed to survive through this? He couldn't beat Voldemort. He couldn't. He knew it, and so did everyone else. Would he ever live long enough to get married? Marriage was never something that had ever crossed his mind before now. But knowing that he could very well never get the chance to fall in love, get married and have kids if he wanted to (which he did) was rather depressing.

Thankfully this summer was a warm one, and he could hide away in the acres of land the Weasleys owned during the day where no one could try and engage him in conversation or try to cheer him up.

He didn't want cheering up.

He wanted to grieve.

Remember Sirius Black for who he was and imagine all the things he must have gotten up to with his dad and Lupin. What trouble they must have got themselves into in school and what they did in the Order. He just wanted to sit out in the sun, alone, and remember all the stories that Sirius had recited that had made his entire face light up and make Harry forget that he had ever been in Azkaban. He wanted to remember the stupid late night conversations he'd had with him last summer, where Sirius had had one too many to drink and Remus would eventually come running in telling him not to listen to a word, though the look on his face just confirmed how very true these tales were.

Then when the summer was over and he had to go back to school, he would reengage with the world and figure out what he was supposed to be doing with his life. Apologise to his friends for being so distant and thank Mr and Mrs Weasley for having him, in spite of his sour mood.

It was as he sat under one of the many trees in the forest, contemplating how exactly he was supposed to get even remotely close to killing Voldemort before he killed anyone else that someone finally figured out where his hiding spot was.

Of course it was Ginny, though she seemed surprised at his presence, a large smile appearing on her face as she looked down at him, confusion marring her brow. 'Harry!' her legs twitched as she almost made a move to come over and sit with him, then thought better of it. She was holding a freshly picked bouquet of flowers. He wasn't sure what any of them were but they were all different and mostly purple and white. 'Do you want some company?' she asked softly.

He shrugged, not wanting to be rude, and hoping that she got the point. The smirk on her face said that she knew she wasn't wanted there. But he hadn't said no, so she sat down beside him. At least she had been polite about it. She tilted her head back against the tree bark, watching for a moment as the sun filtered through the branches and leaves from the canopy up above, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

'I love coming out here when the weather's like this.' She dropped her head back down and brought her knees up to her chest, setting the flowers down across her toes. Bare toes. It was in that moment that he realised she was wearing what looked like old torn off jeans turned into shorts, shorts shorter than he would have thought Mrs Weasley would have allowed, but perhaps she wasn't so bothered while she was wearing them at home, and as old as they looked, and ripped as they were, she must doubt Ginnys want to wear them in school.

She must have realised he was looking at her feet because she curled her toes inward and crossed her feet over one another under the flowers. She had freckles even on her feet. Only a few and they were very sparse, but they were there. When he finally looked back up to her face he caught her watching him, eyes curious and slightly narrowed to avoid the sun shining in from the clearing over the pond ahead. He opened his mouth slightly once or twice, trying to think of something relevant to say.

It had been so long since he had tried to have a normal conversation with someone. And yet for some reason, barely a week out of July, nowhere near the end of the summer, he wanted to. At least with her. She hadn't asked him if he was okay or tried to cheer him up. She just sat down and started a normal conversation.

What had she even said? Something about being outside. He took a deep breath, staring out onto the pond, away from her face. 'There's just something about it, isn't there? I used to spend my entire summers out of the house when I was younger.' He conveniently left out the fact that the reason why he'd spent his summers outside was because Petunia had always had him outside doing the gardening and other menial chores. But there had always been something nice about lying in the flower bed under the living room window, out of sight, in the peace and quiet and warmth of the summer air. 'I always looked forward to it… being able to be out all day I mean. You can smell it in the air when it's coming. All the flowers coming into bloom and the leaves coming back to the trees, the sun heating up the soil…' he shook his head. She probably had no idea what he was talking about. There had always been a sense of relief that came with summer for him when he was younger. Summer meant he wasn't in school, and he didn't have to be in the house, and he could vanish all day and the Dursleys wouldn't care.

When he looked back over to her he saw she was smiling back at him brightly. 'I get it.' She said quietly. 'There's always a weird sense of excitement, for me, knowing that the summers coming – as you said, you can smell it in the air… the rains subsiding… I spend all my summers out here. In the woods. I mean there's nothing to do in the house. And my brothers have always outright refused to let me join in with their games… not that they play games any more… we're all grown up now.' She sighed, like that was a problem.

She shook her head. 'I see you out here, you know. You've been hiding out here all summer. Ron and Hermione are worried sick. They never know where you are and are constantly terrified you've gone off somewhere and done something stupid. And then of course there's mum. She knows your fine, she watches her clock, but I can tell she'd much rather keep you busy in the house where she can feed you up and make sure your happy than let you be out here. I've not told them where you hide – but they'll find out soon enough on their own if you don't go back in there and reengage soon enough.'

He wanted to thank her for keeping his secret, but the words didn't seem to want to come out of his mouth. She picked up her flowers and turned to face him; legs crossed, and looked him in the eye. It was weird, he wanted to look away, but her eyes were so serious, like she was regarding him in some way so she knew what she had to say next.

She smiled again, eyes flicking up to where he was sure she could see his scar through his fringe. 'Okay, Mr Potter.' She said finally. 'I'll tell you this. I may not have any way to cheer you up or make you see that sitting out here and hiding is a useless waste of time. But you know as well as I or anyone else who actually got to know Sirius does. Sirius was a prankster when he was your age. He always had fun and enjoyed life, spent time with his friends and found enjoyment where others may not. He also, apparently, had a slew of girlfriends, but that's neither here nor there.'

Harry couldn't help but grin slightly in remembrance of one particular time Sirius had just pain out right made him laugh with one sentence. He'd walked in on a conversation he and Hermione had been having about Rita Skeeta and had first asked if she was blonde, and a bit up herself, and about his age. And when they had agreed, he'd then stated without missing a beat, or a change of facial expression, that he'd slept with her in school, so had the majority of his year, and he had highly doubted that she would have ended up anywhere other than a brothel, let alone a newspaper.

He hadn't been aware that Sirius ever spoke to Ginny… but then again, he had seen her once sat alone with him in the kitchen, laughing about something. And she had seemed pretty upset about the news of his death.

'He enjoyed his life, Harry. He grew up surrounded by borderline dark wizards who hated him, and the moment he managed to get away, the war started up in full and he spent the last two years of school with nothing but missing students and teachers and friends and family. Everyone was dying and no one knew how to cope. It was worse the first time. No one saw it coming, there was no Order to be quickly reformed, it had to be made and people who could be trusted had to be sought out with time. It happened slowly, he had a better grip of the government and everything went to shit pretty quickly. But he still had fun, and enjoyed the life that he had. And you're in the same situation he and your dad were in. They would both want you to be happy. To live your life and carry on. To not dwell on their deaths. I know you want to be sad and remember him. But if you only remember the good things and carry on… you'd do him better justice that way than you would be sat out here moping.' She paused. 'At least that's what I think.'

'You're _16_, Harry. Not 65. We may be in the middle of a war but the worlds not over yet, and you have your whole life ahead of you.'

The words from the prophecy popped into his head and he frowned. 'As lovely as all that is, Ginny. My life isn't going to be anywhere near as long lasting as you think it will. Voldemort is after me, Ginny. No one survives that.'

She stood up suddenly, smirking down at him. 'You have. Five times now, by my count. One time you even survived death itself. I'm sure you'll be fine.' He found himself standing up with her, compelled to be at the same height level as her when she was speaking to him. 'And besides, even if you're not, just look at your parents. Everyone I know has said nothing but the fact that they were soul mates and meant for each other and how terrible it is that they didn't get more time together. If your parents can find each other, be happy in spite of a war, get married and have a kid, then I'm sure you can.'

He snorted. 'They weren't famous. I'll never know if a girl ever wants the real me or the idea of some stupid hero. And at any rate. I would _never_ want to have a kid in this war. Especially if I'm going to die and leave it alone.'

She rolled her eyes. 'You'd be surprised about how many people who like you for who you are, not who the public say you are.'

He found himself laughing, for the first time in months. 'Then you obviously know something I don't.'

She smiled again, her lips tipping slightly more to the right. She leaned forward unexpectedly and kissed him on the cheek. 'I do.' She said with a grin.

She turned and walked away, flowers in hand, back towards the house. She looked over her shoulder at him as she walked and shouted 'Smile, Harry. You-Know-Who hasn't won yet!'

And then she was off, running, her red hair dancing around her back like flames in the sunlight.


End file.
